and the crashes of heaven, for a sinner like me
by groovystars
Summary: steve, natasha, clint and a car. add a water pistol, and pink floyd and you get a day to dream of. clintasha, mild steggy. oneshot/drabble.


**Goddamn feels.**

**Disclaimer: do not own anything.**

* * *

_And it's breaking over me  
A thousand miles down to the sea bed  
Found the place to rest my head  
Never let me go  
Never let me go_

_- florence + the machine, never let me go_

* * *

Natasha drove down the deserted highway, with Steve in the back drawing the view and Clint sitting shotgun, designing new arrowtips. The radio was blasting on her favourite station, some old rock and pop songs playing. The seats thudded with each bass note played and that was just the way Natasha liked it.

Steve nodded his head along to each song, relishing the fact that it was unknown to him (obviously excluding the ones that Tony blasted around the tower). His hands darted around the expensive paper, drawing Natasha and Clint. He had told them he was sketching the view, but he was actually trying hard to capture the look of total relaxation (or love) in the two's eyes. Steve had only seen that with his parents. Once again, his gaze drifted to Clint, who he had successfully drawn. The toughness of his fingers, the face that had lived, the look of happiness and exhaustion in his eyes that was directed to Natasha via sideways glances.

The car was suddenly silent, cutting off Freddie Mercury halfway through 'Another One Bites the Dust'.

'We're here.' Natasha said quietly, motioning with her head towards the small, rundown cottage on the left hand side of the road. 'It's best you go in alone, Cap.'

Steve scrambled to hide his notebook in Tony's latest Ferrari, quickly covering it with his jacket. The last thing he wanted was for the master assassins to see the picture he drew of them- and find out a way to kill him with it. And then he realised he probably just drew their attention to the incriminating piece of art.

'Wh-what?' he stuttered.

'We're here. Get your ass inside and we'll be waiting here. Here are some tissues, and don't forget the flowers.' Clint summarised, before throwing a large bouquet of pink carnations and orchids at him.

'Who's in there?'

'Go get her, Steve.' Natasha said softly, putting on her sunglasses. The sun was relentless.

Steve stepped out of the car, the tissues in one hand, the bouquet in the other and marched up to the red front door. He knocked. And he waited.

The door swung open alarmingly fast and Steve stared down the barrel of a water pistol. He looked up to the woman at the door and frowned.

'Steve.' said a familiar voice, and he was squirted with ice cold water.

'Peggy,' Steve spluttered in reply. He thrust out his arms. 'I've got this for you.'

'I know.' Peggy reassured him, and squirted him again. 'You're late and the only piece of information I have that you're alive was the news a few months ago.'

'Sorry.'

Peggy opened the door wider and gestured inside. 'Inside, Captain Rodgers. We need to talk.'

* * *

Clint guffawed as he watched Steve get sprayed.

'Nat, you gotta-' he said, turning to face her but abruptly stopped as he looked at her face. She looked like she was in pain.

'What's wrong?' he asked her. She turned to face him, her face blank.

'I wish I was a child.' Natasha whispered, before turning to look at Steve entering Peggy's home. She smiled as Clint understood, realisation dawning on his face.

'So do I.' Clint replied. 'We could just be ourselves.'

'Natalia Alionova Romanova.' Natasha said after a while.

'Clint Barton.' Clint smiled, and held out his hand. 'Nice to meet you.'

Natasha laughed. 'Nice to meet you too.'

Clint's hand reached towards the radio, wanting to switch it on but he stopped.

'Why do you get the cool Russian name?' Clint asked.

'Because I'm Russian, dumbass. That's a childish question.'

'We're children though.' Clint said. 'I can ask stupid questions like that.'

'Any more?'

'Yeah, one. Go out with me.'

'That wasn't a question.'

'Will you go out with me?'

Natasha nodded, and flipped on the radio. A song started blasting and Clint carefully listed it in his mind under songs he should never forget. It was, after all, their song now. They sat there, listening to the last half of the song.

'_And that was 'Wish You Were Here', by Pink Floyd. What a lovely song, guys. Thanks to Jessica for recommending that song! Up next is a song by the legends themselves- Journey!'_

Steve hurried towards the car, a dazed smile on his face.

'How did it go, hotshot?' Clint asked.

'Brilliant,' Steve said, 'everything got sorted. Anything interesting happen?'

'Nope,' they said together.

* * *

And the seats thudded with each bass note played as they drove back to the Avengers Tower to dream about that day.

_fin._


End file.
